Organisms and organizations are being continuously
nudged toward either extinction or evolution. Stasis is unstable as a
long-term condition. The appearance of stability is usually the surface
signature of dynamic processes that happen to be in temporary balance. And the
practical implication is that the right
response to this condition is not to try to preserve current arrangements
unchanged but to engage actively in the adaptation that current conditions
require. The choice is not between change and stasis. The choice is between
deliberate adaptation and unintended decay, and the second is what happens when
the first does not.
It is a fantasy to think that our founding fathers - or even Lincoln's new Republicans or FDR's active reformers or - most shocking of all - Reagan's advisors from just the 1980s - would step into our current world and recognize it as their own. We do not have the alternative to preserve our union as it was or is. We have only the alternative to intentionally adapt to changing conditions, people and imaginations or to watch it decay.
The choice between stagnation and change is mostly illusory.
There is no genuine option to keep things as they are. The option to keep
things as they are is actually the option to let them decay, because everything
around them is changing and a system that does not adapt to a changing context
is being increasingly mismatched with its conditions. The visible alternatives
are usually adaptation toward continued function or accumulation of mismatch
toward eventual failure. The third option, true stability, exists only as an
artifact of short time horizons or selective attention.
This is uncomfortable to sit with because human psychology
is heavily biased toward preferring the appearance of stability. We like the
idea that things can stay as they are. We organize our lives around the
assumption that what is reliable today will remain reliable. We resist changes
to institutions, customs, and arrangements that have been working, on the
grounds that they are working and should not be disturbed. The instinct is
reasonable as far as it goes, because changes have costs and unintended consequences,
and not every proposed change is an improvement. But the instinct can become
pathological when it leads to the assumption that the current arrangement will
persist without the ongoing work that has been keeping it in place. The
institutions that look most permanent are usually the ones that have been most
actively maintained, and when the maintenance stops, the apparent permanence
begins to dissolve.
The deepest version of this comes from
thermodynamics. The second law of thermodynamics says that closed systems tend
toward maximum entropy, which is to say they tend toward disorder, equilibrium,
the dissolution of structure. Any ordered system that persists is doing so by
importing energy from outside its boundaries and using that energy to maintain
its order against the entropic gradient. This is true of stars, of cells, of
organisms, of ecosystems, of organizations, of civilizations. None of them are
stable in the sense of self-sustaining without input. All of them are, in
physical terms, nonequilibrium structures that persist only as long as they can
keep importing energy and exporting waste fast enough to maintain themselves
against the universe's general tendency toward dissolution.
Organizations are nonequilibrium structures sustained by
ongoing inputs of resources, attention, talent, legitimacy, and institutional
energy. When these inputs decline, the organization decays. When they grow, the
organization can either expand or stagnate, depending on what it does with
them. There is no neutral state in which an organization simply persists
without development. Every organization is either developing in some direction
or decaying, and the appearance of stability is usually the signature of
dynamic processes that happen to be roughly balanced for a period.
There are a variety of theories that offer explanations of the balance between stasis and change.
Evolutionary biology gives us the version most people are familiar with. Species that fail to adapt to changing conditions go extinct. Species
that do adapt continue, but as something different from what they were. The
rates of evolutionary change vary enormously across species and conditions, but
the underlying principle is that genetic stability without occasional revision
is incompatible with long-term survival.
Systems theory and complexity science give us the version
that applies most directly to organizations. Stuart Kauffman, Per Bak, Ilya
Prigogine, and others have argued that complex adaptive systems exist on what
is sometimes called the edge of chaos, a regime in which the system is dynamic
enough to respond to its environment but stable enough to maintain coherent
identity. Systems that drift too far toward order become rigid and brittle.
Systems that drift too far toward chaos disintegrate. The sustainable position
is somewhere in between, and maintaining that position requires continuous
adjustment as conditions change. This is sometimes called dynamic equilibrium,
but the word equilibrium is misleading because the position is not static. It
is a moving balance maintained through continuous effort.
Schumpeter gave us the version that applies to economic and
institutional life. Creative destruction is not a periodic event but a
continuous condition. Industries, firms, and economic arrangements that fail to
adapt are continuously being replaced by ones that do. The appearance of
economic stability is the surface signature of constant turnover at deeper
levels. The companies in the Dow Jones in 1900 are mostly not the companies in
the Dow Jones today. The industries that dominated employment in 1950 are not
the industries that dominate employment in 2026. The continuous renewal is what
allows the larger economy to persist.
Buddhist philosophy, in a different idiom, has been making
essentially the same point for 2,500 years. The doctrine of impermanence,
anicca, holds that all conditioned phenomena are in continuous flux, that
nothing remains the same from one moment to the next, and that the appearance
of stable selves and stable objects is a cognitive overlay we project onto a
reality that is fundamentally a process rather than a collection of things.
This framing is not identical to the thermodynamic or evolutionary versions,
but it points at the same underlying observation: stasis is not a feature of
the world we actually live in. The world is constant change, and what we call
stable things are local patterns of change that happen to maintain coherence
for a while.
Institutional recession is exactly
what an institution looks like when its capacity for genuine adaptation has
weakened but it has not yet collapsed. The institutions are not extinct. They
are also not evolving in directions that match the conditions they are
operating in. They are persisting in a state of partial function, doing some of
what they used to do, failing at increasing portions of their original purpose,
and gradually losing legitimacy as the gap between their performance and the
changing demands of their environment widens. This is the phase before either
renewal or extinction, and it can last for a long time before resolving in
either direction.
The prescription of public sector entrepreneurship as the
practice of citizens working to renew their institutions is essentially an
argument for active engagement with the adaptation process rather than passive
observation of its failure. Institutions cannot adapt
by themselves, they require deliberate human effort to undertake the
changes that will let them continue to function, and without that effort
the trajectory bends toward extinction rather than toward evolution. Complex systems do not maintain
themselves automatically. They require continuous infusion of attention,
energy, and adjustment, and when that infusion declines, the system declines.
The choice between stagnation and change is mostly
illusory. There is no genuine option to keep things as they are. The option to
keep things as they are is actually the option to let them decay, because
everything around them is changing and a system that does not adapt to a
changing context is being increasingly mismatched with its conditions. The
visible alternatives are usually adaptation toward continued function or accumulation
of mismatch toward eventual failure. The third option, true stability, exists
only as an artifact of short time horizons or selective attention.
This is uncomfortable to sit with because human psychology
is heavily biased toward preferring the appearance of stability. We like the
idea that things can stay as they are. We organize our lives around the
assumption that what is reliable today will remain reliable. We resist changes
to institutions, customs, and arrangements that have been working, on the
grounds that they are working and should not be disturbed. The instinct is
reasonable as far as it goes, because changes have costs and unintended consequences,
and not every proposed change is an improvement. But the instinct can become
pathological when it leads to the assumption that the current arrangement will
persist without the ongoing work that has been keeping it in place. The
institutions that look most permanent are usually the ones that have been most
actively maintained, and when the maintenance stops, the apparent permanence
begins to dissolve.
Organisms and organizations really are being continuously
nudged toward either extinction or evolution. Stasis really is unstable as a
long-term condition. The appearance of stability really is usually the surface
signature of dynamic processes that happen to be in temporary balance. And the
practical implication is that the right
response to this condition is not to try to preserve current arrangements
unchanged but to engage actively in the adaptation that current conditions
require. The choice is not between change and stasis. The choice is between
deliberate adaptation and unintended decay, and the second is what happens when
the first does not.
